by L. L. Akers
It was okay to love Jenny more than he did some people.
He loved her lots more than he did Mama Dee.
But he loved Graysie, too.
His head filled with a loud buzzing sound.
The sound of angry bees, smothering any clear thought from escaping.
Puck shook his head. “No!” He stomped his foot onto the sand and pointed his finger down, in a full-blown tantrum. “Take them down!”
Cutter waved the guards over. Two men in fatigues took a knee, each aiming scary guns at a different cage. “I’m going to count to ten. If you don’t push one of these levers by one, they both die with a bullet to the head.”
Puck looked at the men in fright and followed the point of their rifles. He sunk down to the sand on his knees, his head in his hands.
Cutter started the countdown. “Ten…nine…”
A lone voice, full of anguish equal to his own, sailed across the wind. “Puck, push Jenny’s lever. Let Graysie live,” Katie cried out, through her tears.
“Noooo,” he roared back, his eyes darting to Jenny.
He was supposed to protect Jenny. He couldn’t let her be dropped into the dark water of the lake, weighted down by the bars while she struggled to get out of a cage. She wouldn’t know how to open it! He couldn’t stand the thought of her head slowly being buried in water, of her lungs filling with it. Drowning…
He couldn’t do it.
“Eight…seven…
“Then you choose to kill your sister?” she yelled, trying to explain it to Puck so that he truly understood.
Cutter nodded in delight.
Puck looked at Graysie in confusion and tried to push past the angry noise in his head. She wasn’t his sister…but he wanted her to be.
“Six.”
This was so confusing. Why wasn’t anyone stopping this? Where were the good adults?
His head swiveled around, trying to find Katie in the crowd.
He couldn’t see her.
“Five.”
“Wait!” Puck yelled. His counting wasn’t all that good, especially backward, but he knew time was running out.
“Four.”
Puck held his hands out wide in appeal, his knees digging into the sand. “Let me inside the cage. Let the girls go,” he pleaded.
Cutter ignored him.
“Three”
“Please!” Puck begged. “I can’t decide!”
The men readied their rifles, earning a panicked jerk from Puck. He flew to his feet looking left and right at the levers, his eyes wide, then up to Graysie and Jenny…back and forth, back and forth…
“Two.”
Puck nearly buckled with another sob as he desperately reached for a lever, the metal wet, his fingers slipping the first time. He took a deep breath, swallowing down his terror and regret.
“I’m sorry,” he yelled up to the cages. “So, so, sorry…”
Cutter’s lips pursed to shape the word, ‘one’ and announce a violent end to the countdown, but before he could, Puck pushed the lever with all his might.
A cage dropped into the water with a huge splash.
The crowd gasped as one, and then fell silent.
Puck crumpled back to his knees, his hands crossed over his head, and sobbed.
39
Camp
Gabby, Tina and Tarra stayed behind, guarding the truck a half mile away, while six figures ran across the soggy ground toward the fence at the far end of the camp. Grayson and Jake took the lead. The guys from the MAG group: Pete, John, Ralph and Chuck brought up the rear.
Jake tripped and nearly fumbled with the bolt-cutters, recovering quickly and quietly cursing his bad leg. He hopped forward a few steps, trying to compensate for his limp.
They reached the fence and spread out in a line along the wire, weapons raised and ready while Jake worked on cutting it, soon opening a gap wide enough for them to slip through. Quietly, they eased through it one at a time, spreading out the same way on the other side in a holding pattern to wait for Jake, who struggled through last, pulling the fence together before they all quietly ran through the rain toward the first guard tower, using the random small cabins and trees for cover.
The group spread out, sloshing through a field, and then melting into the gloom of the storm until soon the only person Grayson could see was Jake, who crouched beside him on the side of a blood-soaked lean-to. He held up a closed fist and then peeked around the corner, grimacing at the sight of a dead orange cat hanging on a crimson-colored hook.
The guard’s attention was somewhere else and Grayson murmured his thanks to the sky, and then ran for the tower, keeping low and praying the guard wouldn’t turn around before he reached it.
His prayer went unanswered.
Pop pop pop pop pop
A heavy machine gun opened up, sending dirt and mud flying all around Grayson. He tucked his head and ran at full speed, throwing himself into a slide to reach the underside of the tower on his stomach as if he was stealing third base, just as Ralph returned fire, with a barrage of full metal jacket, shredding the man’s shirt. The guard fell over the side, thumping to the ground next to Grayson, his eyes wide open in death.
Grayson waved the group forward again, clutching an unfamiliar M4 to his chest—the MAG group had loaned it to him so he could leave enough of their big guns with the women guarding the truck—and they jogged, making their way through a deserted campground, Jake a few steps behind him.
Where is everybody?
There wasn’t a soul to be seen on this side of camp so they pushed forward, Grayson’s heart in his throat, as he tried to push down his panic. If he lost Graysie or Puck, he didn’t know what he’d do. What if the rogue militia had moved them to a new location?
There were no signs of life, until they reached a dog pen. Grayson nudged Jake. “Those are Tucker’s dogs,” he whispered.
The dogs ran to the gate and Jake nodded, reaching through the fence and giving the scared pups a quick rub. A Pit Bull huddled in the back, curious but scared. On the other side of the pen, they were surprised to see a man laying crumpled and broken, face-down on the cement.
Slowly, his head raised.
It was Tucker.
“Tucker!” Jake gasped. “Are you okay?”
Tucker smiled a bloody, broken smile, and pointed at his foot, which by that time was swollen and purple. His sock and shoe lay discarded next to him.
Grayson shook his head. “Shit. Looks like he’s hanging in there like a hair in a biscuit.”
Tucker pointed. “Go…they have Puck and Graysie down at the lake. Hurry! They’re in trouble.”
Jake was conflicted. “Grayson…the bolt cutters. I left them at the fence back there. I can run back and get them and we can get Tucker out of here.”
“No!” Grayson ordered fiercely. “He’s safe in there. Let’s get the kids out first.”
Tucker agreed with him, and Jake promised his friend he’d be back, and moved to catch up with the group. Soon, they came upon another tower, with another distracted guard, watching something happening through the trees. Before Grayson could decide what to do, Pete fired a burst and the man went down hard, his lights going out before he hit the ground, his head a gruesome mess.
Pete glanced at Grayson and shrugged. “I called dibs on that one.”
They scattered again, this time the MAG group splitting off from Grayson and Jake, who continued forward toward the tree line, the direction that Tucker had pointed them, and the same direction that had held both the guard’s attention, when they abruptly came upon a trio of men in fatigues a hundred feet away that had been quietly standing at the edge of the woods, smoking cigarettes and peering down the trail. One of the guards turned, spotting the two men.
The guard sounded the alarm, bringing his rifle up.
Grayson and Jake both dived separate ways. Grayson hit the ground and rolled behind a low metal cart onto his back, cringing at the long rattle that split the air around him. He f
lipped over onto his stomach and lifted his M4, feeling for the fire selector switch, and putting it in three-round burst mode. His finger tightened on the trigger and the gun barked, slamming into his first target, and nearly demolishing it.
A fucking tree.
The guard ran at him.
He took a deep breath, exhaled, and let it out, pulling the trigger again, taking his time in spite of the man clearing the gap between them, still squeezing his own trigger. This time, the man spun around as though he’d forgotten something, and then crumpled to the ground.
Grayson’s lead had struck just below the man’s nose, taking out the back of his skull, blowing bits of blood, bone and hair behind him.
His partners dived behind a small building, still returning fire at Grayson, but they were soon followed by the lob of a grenade from Chuck’s pack.
Jake ran to Grayson, pulling him up off the ground. “Let’s go! Run!”
Grayson jogged forward a few steps, fighting off the shock of just killing a man—another man. His mind wandered, flashing images of the others he’d killed since the collapse, most recently Curt. What was he turning into?—boom—the grenade detonated, surprising Grayson and Jake with its force and sending them to the ground, staring in shock at the sudden blaze of red and orange lighting up the sky, despite the rain.
The boom of the blast stole the show from the angry roll of thunder.
One man stumbled out, black and blood-red trails streaming down his face, carried swiftly by the rain. A bloody nub waved from his right shoulder. He swayed and meandered left to right, drunkenly hurrying down the trail with his lifeblood streaming out behind him.
John emerged from nowhere, stepping behind the man, pushing his rifle over his shoulder to hang from a sling and instead pulling one of his pistols from the low-slung holsters he liked to wear, like an old west gunfighter.
Quickly, he put an end to the injured man and silently waved Grayson and Jake forward. He stepped off into the woods, disappearing in the dense brush, with the rest of his crew.
Jake and Grayson ran down the trail toward the lake, and toward the firefight that had started without them. All hell broke loose as a spray of bullets began to fly, sending the refuges running in a panic up the trail, right into them.
The crowd parted around them, a pulsing human wave of panic flowing uphill, and Jake saw Katie and the girls. She broke away from the crowd and ran into his arms, nearly falling to her knees. “Jake! They took Tucker. They broke his foot,” she sobbed.
Jake helped her stand. “I saw him. He’s in a dog kennel, that way…” he pointed. “Take the girls. We’ll come back there for you. Now go!”
“But my boys—”
“—we’ll find them too, just go, Katie!” Jake yelled at her. “Listen to me!”
Kenny and Penny ran up, with eyes full of panic and terror. “Jake! Can you take us with you?” Kenny panted, his arm wrapped tight around his wife’s shoulders.
Katie shoved past Jake, and shoved Penny. “You! How could you? We trusted you!”
Jake looked at the two women in confusion. Penny hung her head, and Kenny tightened his grip on her. Coming up the trail he saw Xander and his family. There’d be no room for all these people in the truck.
Katie spit on the ground in front of Kenny and Penny. “Leave them, Jake. You don’t want lying, hoarding murderers near your people,” Katie snarled, to Jake’s shock.
Bullets ricocheted off the trees and everyone ducked.
Jake was losing sight of Grayson. “I’ve got to go! Y’all run! You’re gonna get shot…we’ll figure this out later.” Jake pushed through them and hurried after Grayson, who hadn’t broken his stride in his quest to find his daughter and Puck, even amidst a tsunami of slugs peppering the forest floor and the trees around them.
40
Camp
Grayson stood at the edge of the madness for just a moment, looking for Graysie, when splinters flew past his head like arrows. He ducked and watched as Chuck, from the MAG group, ushered the refugees off of the bleachers, hurrying them away from the fight. He swallowed down bile at the number of angry, red number 2’s he saw on the women’s arms.
A gunshot rang out from Pete, and Grayson ducked, and then cringed as he watched an ink-covered man get his head vaporized.
Ralph was on the other side of the amphitheater, hurrying toward an unsuspecting guard who was squatting on the ground, busy trying to belatedly load a magazine for the empty gun he now held, his back against the low stage wall. Ralph crept up on him, bending over the man with a Ka-bar knife and adding a red smiley-face to his neck.
John jumped up to the stage, high-fiving Ralph and exchanging the red paint with a splash. They both stood tall on the stage, backlit by a display of lightning, looking for more enemy to dispatch.
There wasn’t a one to see…the rest had tucked tail and ran.
And then Grayson saw Graysie.
He growled and his vision clouded.
His little girl…hanging up in the air, wet and fragile under an onslaught of rain in a metal cage over a dark and brewing lake. Puck was clinging to the chain like a monkey, trying to shimmy down to her with one good hand while his injured hand dripped a solid beat of blood, now free of its bandage.
A second shot of adrenaline hit his heart and he willed himself to breathe and then ran full speed toward the beach, with Jake limping behind, his leg almost giving out by now.
They reached the beach and Jake jumped into the Bobcat, yelling at Puck to hang on tight. He slammed down the safety cage, hit the hydraulic engagement button and maneuvered the controls to spin the machine, swinging the bucket to hang over the sand where he slowly lowered it, leaving the heavy chain taut—with Puck still wrapped around it—so that it didn’t fall onto Graysie and hurt her.
Grayson ran to the cage, and slammed the door open.
He gasped.
Graysie’s hands were tied. Her body was tied. She would’ve drowned had someone lowered her into the water. As Puck dropped heavily into the sand beside him, jumping from the chain, Grayson quickly pulled out his knife and ripped through the ropes, freeing Graysie and pulling her from the cage, and to his chest.
He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her tightly to his heart and then pulled away from her, looking her over from head to toe. “Are you okay, Graysie? Did they hurt you?”
Puck grabbed Grayson’s arm. “Jenny!” he yelled, pointing at the water.
Grayson spared a glance, seeing nothing but a chain coming out of the water hooked to the bucket of a tractor. He ignored Puck, seizing Graysie’s sleeve and pushing it up, looking for the mark of these beasts. He exhaled in relief to see nothing but a smatter of the precious freckles she was born with on her milky-white skin.
“GrayMan!” Puck yelled over the thunder. “We have to help Jenny!”
Finally, he had his attention, but before he could make heads or tails of what the boy was saying, the man they’d met once before showed up, a chilling smile on his scarred face, he stood on the edge of the beach aiming a gun at them.
Without warning, the man screamed, “An eye for an eye,” and opened fire, sending a fountain of sand up around their ankles.
They dived behind the machinery as bullets sang against the metal.
A long rattle answered the song, coming from Gabby’s friends as they unloaded on the man…putting Jake and Grayson and the kids into a crossfire that stopped almost as soon as it started. Like a ghost, Cutter had disappeared into the trees, evading death again.
The sky opened up once again in fury, dropping torrential rain.
John ran through the sand, waving to Grayson and his group. “Let’s go. We’ve got to get out of here before he comes back with more men.”
The group of eight ran the opposite way from where the man had faded into the trees, and forged a trail of their own. Grayson held Graysie’s hand, pulling her along with him, as Jake pushed and pulled a fighting Puck…who was insistent they not leave Jenny b
ehind.
There was no time for Jenny…or time to listen to his words even. Their lives were on the line and they ran, breaking out of the woods near the fence line where they’d come in. The men from the mag group hurried through the gap in the wire that Jake had cut, holding it open for Grayson and his family.
Grayson nudged Graysie through first, then Puck, and then waited for Jake, who stood looking the opposite way, the bolt cutters back in his hand. “Come on, Jake…get your ass through here. We gotta go!”
Jake yelled back, “I can’t leave Tucker and Katie and the kids!”
“The hell you can’t! There’s no way you have time to go cut him out and get them all back here. The guards will be on us like fly on shit in a matter of minutes. We have to get to the truck!”
Jake shook his head. “Go without me then. I’m not leaving him again. I promised him and Katie I’d come back.”
“For fucks sake, Jake! I can’t leave you behind. Come the fuck on,” he yelled angrily, impatiently holding the gap open, his boots sinking into the ground that was now a soggy puddle of mud.
Jake swallowed hard. “It’s best I stay here with them anyway, Grayson. I have to get clean.”
Grayson swiped away the water streaming down his face. “What the hell are you talking about?” he yelled over the storm.
“Your painkillers. I took them. I’m an addict.”
Grayson stared at him in astonishment. It was a fine time to drop this shit on him. He’d wondered where his pills had gone, and he’d noticed Jake acting weird—actually since before the grid went down. This explained so much... Him disappearing for hours at a time. Sweating before the sun was even up high, the shakes, the headaches, the nausea.
He’d been blind to it all, but now he saw…and fuck if it wasn’t bad timing to see.
“Doesn’t matter, Jake. We’ll deal with that at home.”
Jake shook his head. “No. I’ve tried. I don’t trust myself. I’m putting everyone in jeopardy. I’ll dry out here, locked up where I can’t get any, and I can look out for Tucker and his family while I’m doing it.”
